Black Snake
by mrPostman
Summary: Merlin gets sick after preventing Arthur from getting killed - or, as Arthur seems to think about it, after "committing treason". Stubborn clotpoles, both of them, more or less. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

"This is treason," Arthur grumbled darkly, glaring at the three people in front of him with blazing eyes.

He was grinding his teeth and clenching the armrest of his chair, not even trying to hide how upset he was over the fact that Merlin had just confessed sneaking out of the castle the night before to visit Prince Oscar of Ottergate, the youngest son of Queen Argabelle, on the riverbank camp.

It wasn't but a day since Prince Oscar and his men had been sleeping in the guest rooms, but during the second day of his visit, the prince had gone and commented on Gwen's looks, remarking she was pretty enough but still had some of that "donkey-like appearance so common among common women". Arthur had been peevish the whole day even before that, annoyed by having to host Prince Oscar and his ill-mannered companions in the first place (but completely aware of the political chaos that denying the travelling royalty his hospitality would have caused), and so he hadn't taken the remark well at all. It hadn't helped that Arthur and Prince Oscar had hated each other with passion since childhood.

Eventually, after a heated fight between the two, slightly tipsy Arthur had challenged Prince Oscar to a duel to the death. Prince Oscar had accepted the challenge, only to declare immidiately afterwards that he himself couldn't fight any duels, as he only had one leg; he would name someone else to fight in his place. Arthur had reluctantly agreed and so Prince Oscar had taken his men and left to make a camp outside the castle. The prince had promised to let Arthur know who his champion would be by morning so that they could duel at noon. Which had led to Merlin spending the better part of the night trying to convince both men to change their mind. Which, Arthur apparently thought, had been an act of-

"Treason, Merlin!" Arthur repeated, banging his fist on the armrest. "If you weren't my Court Sorcerer, you would be in the deepest of dungeons by now."

Merlin had been the Court Sorcerer for mere months and the ban of magic had been lift not six months earlier. Throwing the Court Sorcerer, mighty_ Emrys_, into dungeons now of all times would have caused worry, anxiety and unbalance among Camelot's people who were still trying to get used to the new laws. Newly self-declared magic users would have become uncertain of their safety and future, too, which might have caused trouble between magic users and those who didn't have magic.

Merlin looked up from his toes – and, yes, Arthur did look as angry as he sounded. Elyan and Leon lowered their gazes, visibly ill at ease and shaken by the whole situation, while Merlin met his king's eyes steadily, keeping his posture proud and defiant if also a bit defensive. He could detect hints of uncertainty and hurt in Arthur's otherwise cold and angry tone; he suspected he sounded more or less similar himself.

"I understand you're upset," he said, wriggling a bit in Leon and Elyan's noticeably gentle hold. "And after you have abandoned this ridiculous idea to duel someone to the death with a _broken arm_, you can throw me in the dungeons – if you still really feel it's absolutely necessary, that is – and I promise I will actually stay there untill you decide to let me out."

The furious look on Arthur's face turned into one of frustration and the man began shouting, sharing his mixed feelings with the world.

"You completely stupid, pathetically soft clod!" Arthur yelled, jumping up to his feet as if he couldn't bear to sit still any longer. "Guinevere has been insulted and you're doing everything you can to make sure I cannot defend her honour! What is the matter with you, Merlin?"

He began pacing, obviously still seething. Merlin remained quiet, trying desperately to think of something that would make the king change his mind about the duel.

"I expressly told you to stay away from Prince Oscar," Arthur continued. "I made it unquestionably clear that I did not want you to go to talk to him. What did you two talk about anyway? About me? My knights? What? What did you tell him? And how could you betray me like this!"

"I did it for you, you idiot," Merlin snapped. "All I ever do is for you – haven't you learned it by now? I never betrayed you. I just made sure your stubborness wouldn't cause any more harm than it already has: I told Prince Oscar that your duel is stupid and could be avoided, _my lord_!"

Arthur halted his pacing to stand in front of the fireplace. With his head bend, he stared at the flames for quite some time, while Merlin pursed his lip in frustration.

"Arthur," Merlin said after a while softly, gently, shaking off Leon and Elyan's hold and stepping forward to curl a reassuring hand around Arthur's tense neck. "Arthur – a king too stubborn and proud can be dangerous not only to his people but to himself as well. A king like that makes rash decisions. Don't let your stubborness get anyone killed. Withdraw your challenge. You are not fit to fight anyone."

"Merlin... you do not understand," Arthur let out a shaky breath. "I'm not doing this because I'm 'stubborn'. I'm doing this because I need to, have to. You heard Prince Oscar insulting Gwen yesterday, but you don't have the faintest notion of what he has done in the past. To give you an example of his outrageous ways: when we were children, he once _urinated_ on my mother's grave! And now, today, it is my duty and my chance to defend my mother and Gwen's honour. I have issued the challenge and I am _not_ going to withdraw it. As soon as Prince Oscar has named his champion, I will fight the man to the death."

"Prince Oscar has obviously made horrible things," Merlin said, trying to not let the disgust he was feeling at the man in question be heard in his voice, "and he's not a nice man, I noticed."

-when I went to meet him, he added in his mind, but it wouldn't do to mention any of the more dubious details of his meeting with the Ottergate prince just now, as Arthur was already upset enough.

"Fighting one of his knights won't change anything, Arthur, except for that someone won't have a son anymore and you might end up dead. But that's what you knights do, isn't it," Merlin retreated his hand from Arthur's neck. "You insist on fighting each other because of honour, because of Code of Knights urges you to do it, even though the outcome of the duels and fights and wars has nothing do with which one the fighters is right and which one is wrong. By fighting, you will only find out which one of you is the better swordsman and how much it hurts to get hit by a sword! Arthur, you cannot win this duel. Your arm hasn't fully recovered yet and you're still weak. It really might be you that gets killed! Your mother wouldn't – and Gwen and I certainly don't – want you to die because of something like this."

"While your concern is noted," Arthur said, rubbing his face tiredly, "it is not needed. Besides, my wrist is merely strained, not actually broken. I can and I will fight. I will kill Prince Oscar's champion, if it's the last thing I'll ever do. You cannot change my mind, so you might as well give in."

Merlin sighed.

"I was afraid you might say something like that," he said sadly. "Which is why I asked Prince Oscar to name me as his champion. Not surprisingly, he was all too happy to do that."

Arthur twirled around, eyes suddenly wide and wild. Merlin took a cautious step backwards, putting his arms by his sides so that Elyan and Leon could carry on with their guarding duty.

"Prince Oscar named _you_ his champion?" Arthur repeated, disbelief and horror written all over his features. "That's- but you cannot fight. You're not even a knight!"

"No, I am not," Merlin agreed, "but I am a Court Sorcerer. And as a Court Sorcerer, I can become someone's champion and participate in duels against knights, if I so choose. I asked Geoffrey and he confirmed. So, if you want to fight, you will have to fight me."

Arthur stared, flabbergasted.

"You, Merlin? Fight _you_?" he finally managed, shaking his head incredulously. "You wouldn't even defend yourself against me! You wouldn't cast one simple spell to fight back. You would just stand there waiting for me to... to _slaughter you_!"

"That is the idea," Merlin muttered drily. "I wouldn't hurt you, but neither would anyone else. You wouldn't get killed, wounded arm or not."

After staring some more, Arthur took three quick, aggressive steps towards Merlin as if about to attack, before stopping abruptly, mere inches away. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling quickly.

Then, snarling, he turned his back on Merlin and marched to the windows. From there, addressing the windows in general, he said: "Merlin is under chamber arrest. He is not to leave his chambers. Place two guards on his door, they are to stay there at all times. _No-one_ is to visit Merlin unless I order otherwise, no-one – not the queen, not Gaius, not any of the knights. Food will be left outside his door and he can call it from there by his magic, when he feels hungry. If anyone tries to contact him or if he leaves his room without my permission, he and the guards will be severely punished. And Leon, make sure my people will know this has nothing to do with his magic. Emphasize it, yell it from the roof tops if you have to, but do not come back untill you can be certain people believe you."

"Yes, sire," Leon acknowledged the order with a hoarse voice, before he and Elyan led Merlin to the door and out of king's chambers.

"Damn you," Arthur swore eventually, quietly, once the others had left. "Damn you, Merlin. Damn you and your good intentions."

* * *

**Hello, anyone reading? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"This is outrageous injustice," Elyan muttered, as they walked along the hallways, side by side. "Arthur can't seriously believe he could win a duel against a fully trained knight with a broken wrist! Really, had you not taken action, Merlin, Camelot would've lost her king by afternoon."

Leon send Elyan a disapproving look, his grip on Merlin's arm firm but gentle.

"King Arthur is a man of honour," he stated. "He only wishes to defend the honour of his household, like any true king should."

"Honour..." Merlin huffed, marching forward so vehemently the two knights had to quicken their steps to keep up. "You knights can all _eat_ your honour for all I care. It's better to be an alive insulted man than a dead insulted man. Especially if there are people who care about you and don't want you to be a dead insulted man. Challenging someone to a duel to the death is... selfish!"

"Especially if you have a broken wrist!"

"Forget the wrist already, will you," Leon said and motioned for the two guards sitting on a stone bench in one of the alcoves to follow them.

Merlin recognized the men – both dark and bulky and gloomy-looking – as Fergus and Abarrus. They were somehow related, probably second cousins or something, and went _everywhere_ together. They were both good swordsmen and Fergus knew some decent grinding spells, too. According to Arthur, he had put his skills to good use in the armory ever since after stepping forward after the ban of magic had been lift.

"Besides," Leon continued, "Arthur said his wrist is just strained, not actually broken."

"It's broken alright," Merlin declared darkly. "Gwaine said it snapped 'like a stick' when Arthur fell. He said it's a small miracle how Arthur even managed to put out his hands in the first place, as it all happened so fast and unexpected."

"Well," Elyan grimaced, "if he hadn't, he would've hit the ground head first, in which case his head wound would be much more serious."

Merlin didn't want to think about that, as he could still feel the horror of seeing Arthur's unconsciouss body laying on the bed, unmoving, not five days earlier.

They had left for a one-day hunt, Arthur, Gwaine and George – a rarer occurrence now that Arthur was a king – but returned not an hour after their departure. By the time Merlin had burst into Gaius' chambers, Arthur's hand had still been in an odd angle and the gash on his temple had still been bleeding freely and he still hadn't woken up.

As Gaius hadn't let Merlin practise his – not yet that succesful – healing spells on Arthur, he had made himself otherwise useful, looking after Gwaine and George instead: poor George had been absolutely shocked, sobbing and muttering incoherent things about how he should have _insisted_ on securing the straps and how his beloved king was now dead because of his negligence, while Gwaine had stood stock-still, silent and white-faced, his hands trembling ever so slightly.

Later, once the men had calmed down somewhat, Merlin had made sure they were given new clothes to replace the blood-smeared ones. He had also questioned Gwaine and George himself, and so he had been the one to inform Gwen that the strap of the saddle on Arthur's horse had apparently snapped causing the king's fall. Just in case of anything dubious, he had then fetched the newly bought, disregarded saddle from the forest and used his magic to examine it thoroughly.

Turned out there had been a slight flaw in the fastening mechanism. As a reimbursement, Gwen had ordered the terrified saddle maker to give one copper coin for every four coins he had made that month to the house of poor and the man had been grateful to do that, swearing his saddles would _never_ bear any flaws again. Merlin had still appointed bright young Lord Efrey as the Royal Saddle Inspector to test all the saddles before they were sold to anyone. So far, to Merlin's knowledge, no other flaws had been found.

"Seriously, though," Elyan continued, sounding and looking exasperated, "I _can't believe_ Arthur actually thinks he could win a duel against a fully trained knight in his current condition! If you hadn't done what you did, Merlin..."

"Let's try not to think about that," Leon said quietly.

They remained silent and grim all the way to Merlin's chambers, all three of them deep in thought, imagining what might have happened had Arthur dueled one of Prince Oscar's ruthless, strong, well-trained knights to the death with a broken wrist and a head wound. So deep in thought he was that it took Merlin by surprise when they suddenly stopped, having reached their destination already.

"Well, then," Leon said, looking once again ill at ease, after they had stood in front of Merlin's chambers for some time, just staring at the closed door. "I guess you should... step inside, then."

Merlin pressed his lips together, swallowing hard.

"Once I do, it's going to become rather lonely for who knows how long. I wish Arthur won't keep me locked up here for more than a couple of days, at most, this time... I swear one of my chests looks like an open-mouthed olsyra beast – it's terrifying! I don't like that chest. At all! And I hate to be left all alone."

"Read one of your new books," Elyan suggested uncertainly, shifting a little. "I mean, you have plenty of those now, haven't you. Might as well actually read some of them."

After becoming the Court Sorcerer, Merlin had received tens of books from various nobles who all thought a book about herbs – and heraldry, for some reason – was a proper token of appreciation for someone as terrifying as a Court Sorcerer.

Merlin sighed.

"I might. Thanks," he said, fishing in his pocket for the key to his chambers and handing it over to Leon. "Well, um, see you later, then?"

"Of course, Merlin. Take care."

Breathing deeply, Merlin pushed the unlocked door open and stepped into his dark chambers. Leon closed the door behind him, locking it, and Merlin could hear him giving Fergus and Abarrus stern orders about not letting anyone in and leaving the food outside the door, explaining what would happen to them if someone managed to sneak in or if Merlin happened to get out.

Once Leon and Elyan had left, Merlin turned his full attention to his chambers.

Three windows opened out to the courtyard and casted sun light to the otherwise dark room. There was a fire place, full of soot and half-burned wood, and in front of it, scattered here and there, seven chests full of various things Arthur had declared any Court Sorcerer would definately need as a full member of the court but which Merlin hadn't really gotten around to unpack yet. His lovely, comfortable and soft bed was still unmade and one of his more interesting books – _The Incredible Stories of Alfred the Headless Chicken_ written by Gwaine who had thought it was funny to make a parody of the nobles giving Merlin books – was laying on top of the sheets, opened. He hurried to put it onto the shelf next to the other books. It looked small and thin in between _The Herbs from Souther Lands_ and _Alchemilla and Other Herbaceous Perennial Plants_, but Gwaine had put real effort into it and it deserved to be in the shelf as much as any book.

Berty, the nimble broom Merlin had left to sweep the floor all by itself, as he prefered to keep his room (relatively) clean and (arguably) tidy by himself, hurried to wipe the non-existing dust off the book shelf, before continuing to the red rug Gwen had hung on the wall to give the room more cosy a look.

Dropping onto his soft bed, Merlin had to admit there was nothing _actually_ wrong with his chambers, even if he still would have liked to stay with Gaius rather than to live on his own. He might have, too, if Gaius' new apprentice hadn't already moved into his old room. She was called Sophia, apparently, although the eight first times Merlin had met her, she had pretended to be a boy called Stephen – Gaius had eventually discreetly informed her that in Camelot everyone, both males and females, were allowed to become healers.

With its blonde bristles, Berty looked a bit like Arthur, Merlin mused.

"_You stubborn, spoiled duckhead!_"

The poor broom startled at his sudden yell, but continued its sweeping soon after. Had brooms been capable of shooking their head, Merlin was pretty sure Berty would have now done just that.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling a beginning of a headache forming somewhere behind his forehead. If he still had lived with Gaius, he sighed to himself, there would have been a remedy for a headache around somewhere, just waiting for someone like him to drink it.

Merlin never suspected this particular headache was something Gaius wouldn't know how to cure.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're _not_ a toad yet, then," Gwaine snorted as a way of greeting, as he appeared in front of Arthur, holding his sword loosely by his side. He wasn't wearing his armour, but Arthur had a strong feeling he was heading for the practise field anyway. "How unexpected. I wonder what Merlin is waiting for. If I were him, you would be catching flies with your tongue by now."

"You're not _insunuating_," Arthur snapped and thrusted the reins of his horse to George's waiting hand, "that you would use magic against your king, are you? Because if you are, Gwaine, I just might put you under chamber arrest as well – for your inappropriate comments _and_ for bothering me, when I clearly wish to be _left alone._"

Because that's exactly what he needed: a moment of peace and quiet, to rest, to think everything through.

They were standing at the door of the stables, Arthur just having come back from meeting Prince Oscar. Covering his embarrassment well, Arthur had withdrawn his challenge and banished the men with a threat of immidiate execution if the prince or any of his men ever happened to cross the borders to Camelot again. Prince Oscar had looked startled at fist, before regaining his composure and telling his men to start packing. He had muttered something about prefering drinking simple tea with Camelot's Court Sorcerer to having to feast with her king, but Arthur hadn't really listened, too satisfied to get rid off the sorry excuse of a prince for good.

Before the meeting, Arthur had sent one of his fastest messengers to Ottergate to take Queen Argabelle a sealed letter in which he explained the recent, unfortune occurences and wished that the prosperous relations between the two kingdoms would become even stronger, regardless of the said unfortunate incidents. He had given the messenger a two hour lead before going to meet Prince Oscar. Now all he could do was to wait and wish the message would arrive to the castle of Ottergate before Prince Oscar managed to give the queen his version of what had happened.

It all had been very frustrating and Arthur had given himself a headache by clenching his jaw too hard for too long. Fortunately Gwaine was sensible enough to move out of his way and allow him to go to his chambers to rest. Well, some other Gwaine probably would have been, that was. Their Gwaine, Gwaine the knight of Camelot, was not that sensible, or perhaps he just simply lacked the instinct for self-preservation when Arthur was concerned.

"Someone has a stiff arse today," Gwaine retorted, blocking Arthur's way effectively as the king tried to make his way pass by him. "Or should I say 'is'. Either way, the arse is still alive and well, not beheaded as I thought would be likely. Beheaded. _Bearsed_. Killed."

"I'm not in a mood for this, Gwaine," Arthur sighed tiredly. "I understand you're upset about Merlin, but his punishment is deserved and I'm actually being lenient with him, keeping the laws in mind: he _betrayed_ me by going to talk with my enemy, even if he did have my best interests in his mind."

"The way I see it," Gwaine said slowly, narrowing his eyes, "is that, as the Court Sorcerer, Merlin is _supposed to_ save your sorry arse. This time he just saved you from yourself, from your own stupidity, instead of some sorcerer: I have fought with a broken wrist and, based on my experiences, you would've lost your duel, you _would've_ died. So, don't be such an annoying, pompous-"

"Please, move aside, Sir Gwaine," Arthur interrupted with a stern voice, straightening his back.

"Unlike Merlin," Gwaine said softly, leaning closer as if to make sure Arthur would hear his words properly, "_I_ happen to have _Merlin's_ best interests in my mind."

With that, he took one of his gloves off with one smooth movement and smacked Arthur's face with it. Slowly, with mixed feelings, Arthur raised one hand to his aching cheek, well aware that all the noice around them had faded. No-one was talking. No-one was moving. Not one person dared to make a sound.

"I challenge you to a duel, my lord," Gwaine declared, swinging his sword skillfully, relaxed. "Not to the death, though. Nothing as exaggerated as that. It is just to demonstrate you that had Merlin not done what he did, you would be dead as my prudishness by now and Camelot would be without her king. Because there's no way in hell you could've win with that wrist – and I want you to remember that for the rest of your life. You should never gamble your life, Sire. Belive me, that's something I actually know from experience."

* * *

"You shouldn't duel with Gwaine," Gwen said worriedly, biting her lip. "Gaius told me it would take up to eight weeks for your wrist to heal and it hasn't been six days yet. He said your harrowing bone has been broken. And, anyway, I thought you had given up dueling for now. You withdrawed your duel against Prince Oscar, didn't you!"

"I am _not_ withdrawing from two duels in a same day," Arthur huffed, raising his arms for George to have a better access to fasten the pauldrons. "Besides, I am perfectly capable of telling the difference between a broken wrist and a strained one – and mine is merely strained. I bet _Merlin_ asked Gaius to exaggerate my injury for some foolish reason of his. It would be just like him."

"You shouldn't blame Merlin for caring and worrying," Gwen chided gently, unfolding her arms and stepping closer. "I've seen how _you_ are when he disappears to face some magical beast or another: if you could create a protecting... bubble around him, or something, you wouldn't even hesitate to do it. So don't be angry at him for being the same. _Besides_," she added before Arthur could voice his thoughts, "your wrist truly _is_ broken. Gwaine and George were so worried when they brought you back."

Arthur frowned at Gwen, pressing his lips together.

"Hmph," he snorted. "Did _Gwaine_ also make remarks about me twisting about in pain like a worm or fainting like a lady, or something, then?"

Gwen sighed and looked thoughtful for a moment, giving the vampraces an absent-minded wipe as if making sure they were actually iron and not something fragile made to look like iron.

"Not that I can think of," she finally answered. "Although he did make one half-hearted remark about being pregnant, when Merlin gave him some of that calming potion Gaius uses on pregnant women. Most of the time he just wanted to know if you would ever be able to use the hand again. He even promised to buy you thread as soon as you would be able to make your embroideries again."

"I don't do embroidery!" Arthur squeaked, appalled, lowering his arms as George turned to look for the gauntlets. "The tools were a gift from Lady Helena," he then hissed in a much quieter voice, glancing around in case of eavesdroppers, "and it would have been simply rude not to at least try them once. It is not my fault Gwaine happened to wander in just then."

"Of course it isn't," Gwen said soothingly, frowning with concern when George handed over the gauntlets and Arhur began to put them on. "And, in any case, your embroidery is very lovely if still a bit clumsy, so you have nothing to be ashamed of. But Arthur, please," she put a restraining hand on his arm, "please, don't go there and fight. Your temple is still badly bruised and even if your wrist didn't need rest, your head does. Merlin is right when he says you're still too weak to fight anyone."

Arthur raised his chin in defiance.

"Well, we'll see about that, won't we."

When he walked across the practise field to the dueling area, Gwaine was already waiting for him. Elyan and Percival stood on the edge of the area with folded arms, looking grim and disapproving, and Gwen went to stand next to them with a quiet, resigned sigh. Gaius had been summoned there, too, which was just insulting – especially as he had already spread out the instruments he would use in case someone's wrist was broken. To crown it all, George went to Gaius with a determined look on his face, inquering if there was anything he could do to help Gaius to "prepare".

"It shouldn't take more than three strokes," Gwaine assessed out loud as seething Arthur marched to face him. "For you to see the senselessness of your actions, princess, that is. Just remember that the purpose of this particular duel is that the next time you're not perfectly healthy, you'll consider twice before challenging anyone to a duel to the death. But don't worry: I promise to be as gentle as possible."

"I won't," Arthur hissed through gritted teeth, as angry and humiliated as ever. "Once I'm done with you, even your toe nails will hurt."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows, looking slightly wary.

The duel began. Arthur raised his arm for the first stroke and struck as hard as he could, aiming for Gwaine's left arm. Gwaine managed to block the stroke with his sword – and Arthur heard a loud snap as his wrist protested the hard hit and broke yet again.

The pain in his wrist was immidiate, terrible, overwhelming, and the sword slipped from his hand without him even noticing. He fell to his knees onto the muddy ground, holding his arm and groaning, wheezing, _swearing_. Pain and tears of pain blurred his eyes and he couldn't even feel Gwaine holding him reassuringly by the shoulder.

He did hear the softly uttered words, though, as Gwaine pressed his mouth against his ear.

"And now you'd be dead, Arthur. If it hadn't been for Merlin."

* * *

**I hope you liked the chapter! I don't really have anything of importance to say at the moment, except from: thank you for your reviews! It's always great to know someone is actually reading. :) If there's anything you want to ask etc. don't hesitate to give me a private message or a review. I love letters. :O :D**


	4. Chapter 4

He was running a fever, Merlin realized, as he wrapped himself tighter in the sweat covered blanket. He was simultaneously shivering from cold and stifling in the heat of the blanket. His head was aching so much it made him feel sick. He thought he might have thrown up a couple of times, but wasn't sure. It was hard to keep track of such things, as being ill was currently the least of his problems: there, not four feet from the footboard of his bed, was an_ olsyra beast_ – and it was on the prowl for _him_, Merlin just _knew_ it.

"Leave!" Merlin told it again, but the beast didn't obey his Dragonlord voice. It just laid there, watching him quietly with its red eyes, sharp fangs glistening with dribble and blood, as it sneered at him, taunting him to close his eyes, to give in for the blissful sleep, so that it could creep closer and eat him. Bit by bit. Slowly and alive. As Merlin knew olsyra beasts did.

Merlin couldn't help the quiet moan that escaped his lips. He was exhausted and scared and confused and so, so cold. And so hot. It was both suffocating and freezing at the same time, which was just weird. And uncomfortable. Terribly uncomfortable. And his head hurt like... like...

Merlin sniffed, feeling sorry for himself.

Arthur was there too, Merlin noticed suddenly, as he saw his friend dancing around the room nimbly, happily, without a care in the world, wiping the dust on his way with his blonde, bristly hair.

Worried, Merlin told him to run, to stay away from the beast, and for once Arthur listened to him, going round the beast instead of over it as he seemed to be doing with everything else. But Arthur was still too close to the creature, sometimes he brushed by it, as if he didn't realize how dangerous olsyra beasts could be.

Merlin glowered at the beast, feeling protective of his friend.

"_I command you to leave Camelot!_" he roared in a voice any dragon would have obeyed without a moment of hesitation – but nothing happened. The beast didn't budge, didn't make a sound, just stared at him blankly with its red eyes.

"Right then," Merlin muttered, grabbing Arthur as the man twirled closer to his bed. "It can't be reasoned with, so we better run."

He looked around, trying to see a way out. The cave was dark and dreary, but on one of the walls there were three shining openings that casted warm light into the cold darkness. Merlin climbed out of the bed and staggered closer to them with his shaky, weak legs, keeping all the while a cautious eye on the beast.

Arthur was restless in his hold, but he didn't let go. He didn't want the creature to get any ideas about substantial kings running around. Although, he realized with a frown, Arthur didn't feel that substantial: he felt very thin. Way too thin. It was like Arthur was... like he was... like...

It was hard to remember. It was hard to concentrate.

Besides – Merlin noticed, as he reached the shining openings and leaned heavily against the wall for support, panting from the exertion – the openings weren't actually _openings_ but windows. He could see a courtyard full of people below him. It would be safer down there on the ground, he reasoned, as there didn't seem to be any kind of beasts around. Now all he had to do was to find a way down and they would be safe.

He glanced at the olsyra beast. It stared right back, eyes as hard as stone.

Merlin sighed and turned his attention back to the windows. If only he knew how to fly. But only birds flew and he wasn't a bird. He was a human and so he couldn't fly. He was Arthur's Court Sorcerer, Emrys, Merlin – but not a bird. He was Merlin, not a bird. But a merlin was a bird, a merlin bird. And he was Merlin. So perhaps he actually did know how to fly, after all.

Well, of course he knew how to fly, Merlin came to an eventual conclusion – how silly of him! He was a merlin, wasn't he. And merlins were birds, merlin birds, and birds knew how to fly, so of course he knew how to fly. He was probably used to flying, too, as birds usually were.

Merlin pushed one of the windows open, expectantly, ready to fly once more as all birds were supposed to do. He had probably flown his whole life, he just didn't remember it – there were many things he found hard to remember at the time, like how he had ended up in the cave with an olsyra beast in the first place or how long he had been there.

Yes, he was _excellent_ at flying, wasn't he! He was an excellent merlin.

Merlin struggled up to the windowsill with difficulty and looked down at the courtyard. First he would plunge down, he planned. He wouldn't turn to fly upwards untill the last moment, to show his skills to lady birds as male birds were supposed to do. Then he would glide above the courtyard and enjoy the feel of flying, untill finally landing onto the high tower. From there he would see all of Camelot! And he would carry Arthur on his back so that Arthur, too, could see all of Camelot.

He tightened his hold on Arthur and leapt – just as someone grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him back inside.

"WHAT THE HELL, MERLIN?" Arthur roared at his face, after twirling him around.

Merlin noted the king wasn't as thin anymore, which was a great relief, really, because being thin like a broom was just too thin and it was unhealthy to be too thin and he wanted Arthur to be happy and healthy, not ill and unhappy.

Merlin was so happy to see a less thin version of Arthur that he threw his arms around the man and hugged him tightly against his chest.

Arthur pushed him off and gave him a violent shrug.

"What was that?" Arthur demanded, sounding upset. "You weren't just about to jump out of the window, were you, because it sure looked like you were! Was it some foolish experiment of yours or where you actually trying to kill yourself, you absolute INFURIATING, IDIOTIC BLOCKHEAD!"

Arhthur didn't look happy, Merlin decided after careful observation: Arthur's eyes were wide and terrified. He was clenching his jaw and clasping the front of Merlin's shirt in his hand as if his life depended on it. Merlin tilted his head slightly, frowning with concern.

The olsyra beast was still lurking in the shadows and it managed to draw Merlin's attention to itself. Merlin gave it his best glare over Arthur's shoulder. The monster was better not to try anything!

"Are you... alright?" Arthur asked suddenly, his tone softer and much more gentle. "No, what am I even asking for – _of course you're not_," he added after touching Merlin's brow. "You're burning up – and a bit confused, I take it, judging from the foolhardy way you were just... looking out of the window. Huh, who knew: apparently you were 'worried sick' about me, weren't you. Well, let's get you onto the bed, shall we. Is that- Merlin, is that... have you _thrown up_? Well, obviously you have. A lot. So you're _that_ sick, then... Useful to know. Just try not to step on the vomit, please. Oh, it's on the sheets as well. Um, okay. Just..."

Arthur was so determined about taking him somewhere that Merlin didn't have the heart to remind him that they had been supposed to fly together, as flying could wait till later. He smiled to himself as he thought about showing Arthur all of Camelot. His mood darkened, however, as he met the glowing red eyes yet again. Merlin whispered a warning about the olsyra beast in Arthur's ear, and fortunately Arthur seemed to immidiately understand the gravity of their situation, because he gave Merlin a look of deep worry.

Merlin tried to give him more information about the beast, then, but Arthur told him to shut up and called for guards. Which would have been just the thing to do had they been _in the castle_ and not _in the cave_. Still, to Merlin's surprise, two guards appeared, so he wasn't complaining.

He did complain, though, when Arthur send the guards away soon after instead of telling them to keep an eye on the olsyra beast.

"It will eat us!" Merlin hissed, trying to make Arthur understand, because apparently the king hadn't understood, even though Merlin had thought he had. "Bit by bit, Arthur. It will tear us apart and _eat us_ when we fall asleep!"

"It won't," Arthur assured, lowering him onto something soft and comfortable – his lovely bed, it seemed. "Because that thing you keep staring at? It's a _chest_, _Mer_lin, not an olsyra beast or a cow or anything ridiculous like that. It's a chest! I gave it to you, remember? And will you let go of the broom already! Even George doesn't snuggle with brooms. Or perhaps he does – how should I know!"

Just then the olsyra beast attacked, leaping towards them with a roar of rage. Terrified, Merlin created a ball of fire and hurled it at the creature. The ball hit its target with a blast, and then there was nothing left of the beast but a smoking scorch mark.

Blinking at the scorch mark, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Well," he said after a while, his hold on Merlin's arm secure and safe, "there were some precious, unique, _thoughtful_ gifts I had hand-picked myself inside that particular chest, but I gave them to you and they were yours to do whatever you wished to do with them, so who am I to say that you shouldn't have blasted them. Just – no more fire balls inside the castle. And seriously, Merlin, just let go of the broom, so you can lie down more comfortably. And _what is taking Gaius so long_?"

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**Aww, poor delusional Merlin. Let's hope Gaius can do something to help him. Because no-one likes sick!Merlin, right? ;)**

**Once again, thank you for your kind reviews! It's so nice that you've shown interest!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for your reviews! It's very rewarding to have some feedback.  
**

**Warnings: Reference to a possibility of amputation. Nothing too drastic, really, but better to be safe than sorry.**

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When Arthur went to release Merlin only to find the man crouching down on the windowsill just about to jump, it had been a little over a day since Merlin's arrest. In all likelihood, he would have released Merlin sooner, had the rather strong potion Gaius had given him for the pain not made him fall asleep.

Once Arthur finally woke up, it was late morning and he was in his own chambers, dressed in his nightgown. He really didn't want to know how that had happened, as it had been afternoon when he had fallen asleep _in his armor_ in Gaius' work room, so he didn't ask, even if George seemed eager enough to tell him – well, eager for George, which was in fact less "eager" and more politely uttered "might I compliment you on your exceptional talent for training strong knights, Sire". So, instead of asking anything, he got dressed and sent for Gwaine, telling George to take the breakfast away as he didn't feel like eating.

While waiting for Gwaine to arrive, Arthur then spent his time by eyeing some of the pergaments left on his desk: more or less (usually less) interesting reports of this and that, the results of the population census from the northern villages, a hastily-written, almost illigible note from Merlin to remind him that Leon would be having a birthday in two weeks time – this year, Arthur would "better have a thoughtful gift for the poor man", because apparently Merlin was not going to lie _his_ gift was from both of them, as he claimed he had done for "the last four years, Arthur, you forgetful dollophead".

Arthur smiled at the note gently. He hadn't noticed it before. Then he winced, because, according to the date in the note, he had found the note six days too late.

Staring at Merlin's note with regret, it felt like it took Gwaine _forever_ to finally knock on the door.

"Ah, Gwaine. Good morning," Arthur said jovially, hiding the note quickly under the census results, as Gwaine shuffled in, scratching his bottom and looking generally like he had only just woken up. "Please, take a seat."

Gwaine dragged a chair closer to Arthur's desk and dropped onto it, folding his arms across his chest.

"You know, princess," he said, yawning widely, "you should let me have a long morning, sometime. I never seem to have time to shave."

He stroked his beard wistfully and Arthur snorted, amused.

"That's only because you don't want to shave."

"True, because if I did, I'd have to wake up even earlier and I happen to prefer sleeping to shaving."

"...and to bathing, eating, riding, swimming, spending time with women, hunting-"

"Nonsense," Gwaine snorted. "I could never prefer sleeping to eating. There is nothing quite like food."

"You did have time to eat breakfast, then?"

"Meeting you first thing in the morning _without_ breakfast?" Gwaine grimaced. "Sounds like one of my more boring nightmares. Of course I had breakfast. Unlike you."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, twiddling with a quill absent-mindedly.

"And how do you know I haven't?"

Gwaine smiled sheepishly.

"Because I ate _your_ breakfast," he admitted. "I bumped into George in the hallway and he was carrying all these plates full of lovely, uneaten food. He seemed satisfied that at least someone was enjoying the breakfast he'd put so much effort into. Mentioned something about his professional pride... Have you let Merlin go already?"

The change of topic was sudden, but not unexpected. It had taken some time, but eventually Arthur had got used to Gwaine changing topics quite abruptly, without preambles of any kind. It had still taken some more time for Arthur to notice that Gwaine seemed to be doing it mainly when he was present, possibly to baffle or to annoy him. One never knew with Gwaine. Probably not even Gwaine himself.

Arthur sighed.

"Not yet, but I will," he promised and Gwaine seemed to relax, as if he hadn't been relaxed enough already. "I just wanted to talk to you before I did."

A curious look crossed the knights face and Gwaine shifted a bit in his chair: Arthur never summoned Gwaine to his chambers first thing in the morning, especially if he could be talking with Merlin or Gwen instead – Arthur prefered beginning a new day with Merlin to Gwaine, which Gwaine, in fairness, could well understand.

"Then talk," Gwaine urged. "The sooner you've talked, the sooner you've talked – and the sooner Merlin will be a free man again. Actually, come to think about it: the sooner you've talked, the sooner _all three of us_ can be free men, as it seems that you and I are stuck in this room until you've said whatever it is that you want to say."

"Yes, well."

Arthur cleared his throat and put the quill down onto the table, while Gwaine scratched his stomach and yawned. Arthur suspected it wouldn't take too long for the man to lift his feet on the desk. Gwaine had done it before and _would_ do it again, no matter how much or how loudly Arthur always shouted at him about it. Merlin had probably something to do with it, but Arthur wasn't exactly sure what.

"Yesterday, Gwaine," Arthur said eventually, touching the cast on his wrist lightly, "you humiliated me."

Gwaine looked up, a wary frown forming on his forehead.

"And it was exactly what I needed."

Gwaine's forehead smoothed down as quickly as it had wrinkled.

"Because of your unconventional..." Arthur waved his hand, trying to find a suitable word, "'demonstration', I now know for sure that I would have lost a fight against anyone, perhaps even against Prince Oscar's lousy knights. I might be proud, but I also know when I have overestimated my strength and made a mistake. Fortunately, I am surrounded by people brave and loyal enough to guide me through my mistakes, even when I can't see any need for their help myself. For that, you all have my gratitude."

"Besides," Arthur added, looking suddenly nauseous, "it would have been such an embarrassing way to die: to only struck once and break my wrist with that one stroke. Can you imagine all the appalling, distasteful, _insulting_ songs bards would've made about my death, had I died in a duel like that!"

"Yes," Gwaine said mischievously, tilting his chair back.

"_King Arthur once did have two arms, too,_

_untill he challenged another knight to a duel._

_And, oh, how life can be so cruel:_

_he only stroke once_

_and now he's as dead as poo."_

"That," Arthur said incredulously after a while, "was something I will _never_ want to hear again."

* * *

Two hours after founding Merlin crouching down on the windowsill, Arthur stood by his friend's bedside and cursed spirits for causing illnesses.

Gwen was stroking Merlin's hair, but Arthur hadn't touched the man after carrying him into Gaius' chambers. He didn't have the right to. It was his punishment for not going to see Merlin immidiately after waking up. There he had been, wasting his time by waiting for Gwaine to eat his stomach full of Arthur's breakfast, while Merlin had been throwning his guts up all alone in his isolated room.

There was nothing for Merlin to throw up anymore, as he had already emptied his stomach in his own chambers, but he was still gagging and burning up and his delusions were getting worse and worse. He saw monsters everywhere, claiming they were there to take his magic away, to use him to lure dragons into certain death. Then, when he wasn't telling Arthur to run for his life or calling for his mother, he was convinced Gaius had been kidnapped and was determined about leaving to save him. At one point, Merlin had a conversation with Lancelot who he apparently thought was sitting on his bedside. Gwen had burst into tears then and cried quietly ever since.

"Where is the plant that can cure him?" asked Gwaine from where he was leaning on the wall, watching Merlin's pale skin and glowing cheeks. "Because of course there is one somewhere. Wherever it is, I'll go get it. Just _tell me where it is_ and I swear I'll bring it to you!"

Arthur looked at Gaius' stricken face. The old man looked lost and helpless, as he hold one of Merlin's old scarfs tightly against his chest.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do," Gaius said the last words Arthur wanted to hear. "There is no cure for Black Snake, not even a magical one."

Arthur turned to stare at the black streak on Merlin's skin. It followed his blood vessels from his right hand fingers up to his elbow, as if the blood in his hand had suddenly turned black and was now spreading out to his blood vessels all over his body, slowly but inevitably. When the black streak reached the heart, Merlin's fight for life would be over and he would die. Merlin would die. Die.

Black Snake began with slight headache, Gaius had told them. As the headache got worse, the fever would go up, followed shorty after by delusions and vomiting. The black streak was the last one of the symptoms. By the time it appeared, the patient would only have a couple of days to live, a week at most. In Merlin's case the disease had spread unusually quickly, so it was unlikely that he would live a week.

An amputation was out of question, Gaius had said sternly, when Arthur had ordered him to cut the arm off: the disease had already infected the whole body, even if there was only one black streak visible, and amputating the arm would only worsen Merlin's condition.

They should be thankful that the disease wasn't contagious, Gaius had said blankly, tonelessly.

Thankful, Gaius had said. _Thankful!_

Arthur couldn't have taken it anymore at that point. He had kneeled by Merlin's bedside, calling Merlin a clotpole and so, oh so much worse things. He had cursed Merlin, told him to go to hell for worrying him, before begging the man not to go anywhere, to stay with him, to stay with him forever, for the eternity, and not to go anywhere, and when Merlin hadn't answered, he had cursed him, again.

Arthur didn't know at which point his curses had turned into quiet sobs, but it had been at some point before Gwaine had ran out of the room. He had come back later, face and knuckles bloody and bruised as if he had been fighting to ease his own anxiousness, but looking otherwise much calmer. He had even wrapped a blanket around Gaius' trembling shoulder, something Arthur hadn't even come to think about.

"Merlin is a dragonlord," Arthur declared with a glare aimed at the room in general, as if there was anyone who might have opposed this fact. "No snake, black or otherwise, is going to be the end of him. I'll make sure of that."

Gwen sniffed, wiping her nose on a handkerchief.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, sounding wary and hopeful at the same time.

"Whatever it takes. I'll start by sending someone to meet druids and find the dragons. Perhaps they'll know something we don't. Perhaps they can help. I will also offer a reward of five thousand gold coins to anyone who can find a cure to Black Snake."

"I'll add two hundred to that," Gwaine promised grimly – no one pointed out it was probably worth all Gwaine had, including his sword and horse.

"And I can give you another hundred," Gaius said and stood up, drying his tears on the blanket.

As they watched, Gaius hurried to one of his many shelves and picked up a wooden box from behind the books. He blew dust off of it and handed it to Arthur.

"I would give up everything if it meant that Merlin could be saved. He's like a son to me. If there was a cure, I do believe I would know about it, but at least this way we can... try to do something for him. We shouldn't lose hope. Merlin wouldn't want that."

Arthur clasped the box in his hands.

"Yes, he is such a stubborn man, isn't he. He never gives up hope on anyone or anything... Five thousand three hundred gold coins it is, then."

"And three copper ones, my lord," said a sad voice and a small pouch was put on top of the wooden box.

A small girl Arhur hadn't noticed before looked up at him with round resin-coloured eyes. She was wearing a skirt but had a short hair like page boys. Her nose was too big, eyes too close to each other. Her posture was poor and she was anything but pretty, really, but Arthur didn't notice it. He only saw someone who was willing to give up her savings to save his best friend. He saw someone beautiful.

Merlin was talking to Lancelot, again.

* * *

**Have you heard that there might be a chance we'd get a sixth series of Merlin? How awesome would that be! They're apparently negotiating about it. We'll get it if the show is popular enough. So now, Merlin fans, let's make some noice! Let's show the producers we want more Merlin! So, instead of reviewing this story, please go here to comment and like Merlin. ** *vvv.fäceböök.c*m/Merlinseason6?_fb_noscript=1** (FF won't let me show the beginning of the address properly for some reason but I guess you can figure it out anyway, theres a face and a book and dotcom...) And ask your friends and parents and teachers and neighbours and everyone to join you. :D Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to all you great people who liked that Facebook site - and, of course, to you who gave me a review! Both were appreciated. :D**

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A reward of five thousand three hundred gold coins – and three copper ones – had attracted many healers, Arthur noticed, when he came back from informing all knights present about Merlin's illness and saw the dozens of people, all queueing on Gaius' door. Most of the people were obviously swindlers greedy for the money, but Gaius was careful to interview everyone personally, before letting some of them, the more convincing ones, to see Merlin.

Sitting on chairs next to Merlin's bed, Arthur, Gwen and Gaius watched as Elk, yet another "more convincing one", a man with a gentle, friendly face and a thick brown beard, did his best to heal Merlin.

"The spirits of Avalon," Elk said in a low voice ominiously, sprinkling water on Merlin. "The Daughter of Aeldar, the Son of Bon, the Sister of Elgaroth, the Brother of Idamor – I call you! Hear me, hear me! Come here, my lords and my ladies! Fly with the wind, with the air, and lift the curse you've put on this poor soul. Have mercy on his body and mind! See his pain; _feel_ his pain – free him! _Free him_!"

Merlin clasped Arthur's hand tighter, eyes wide and scared, a confused frown forming on his forehead. Merlin needed the physical contact, so no matter how much Arthur felt a need to punish himself, he simply couldn't deny Merlin the small comfort.

"Who is he?" Merlin whispered in a hoarse voice, squinting and doing obviously his best to make some sense to the world in which his delusions prevailed. "What _happened_ to his flesh?"

"Don't worry about it," Arthur said softly, trying to sound both convincing and soothing. "It's fine. He's here to help us. To help you."

"...'s nice of him. So many boots to polish..."

"So many boots, indeed," Arthur agreed tiredly.

The black streak was already up to Merlin's shoulder and so far no-one had managed to help him. By every passing moment, Arthur was getting more anxious, more frustrated, more exhausted. More desperate.

Elyan had left to meet druids, as soon as he had heard about Merlin's illness, and Gwaine had gone with him. They had promised to be back by nightfall, if at all possible, but the sun was already setting and there was no sign of either one of them returning. Either it was taking a lot of time to convince druids to give them the cure (if druids even had one), or it took a long time to make the cure, or perhaps something had happened to Gwaine and Elyan while they had been making their way back home. Or perhaps they hadn't even reached the druids, before something had happened to them.

Arthur rubbed his face. He was worried for more than one person, even if Merlin still was uppermost in his mind.

Now that the word about Emrys' illness had spread, enemies were likely to use the situation to their advantage. Even though Camelot couldn't really afford to send her knights away in a time like this, Arthur had hand-picked four of them and sent them to find the dragons on their own: Tristan had headed to the west, Gareth to the east, Ebraham to the north and Percival to the south.

Percival, Gareth and Ebraham had left without a moment of hesitation and, to Arthur's surprise, even Tristan had dedicated himself to the quest without giving so much as a frown in resistance. The man probably felt duty bound to help and was noble enough to not let his personal feelings get in the way, or perhaps he simply looked forward to the opportunity to leave the castle for a while, to go on a quest all by himself. Arthur couldn't tell and, as long as Tristan found the dragons and asked their help on Arthur and Merlin's behalf, it didn't matter.

They were all well aware that Tristan had never truly forgiven Merlin. Ever since after finding out about Merlin's magic and especially after realizing how powerful the man actually was, Tristan had treated Merlin with an air of superiority, not hiding the strong dislike and mistrust he felt towards "the Warlock" who could have used his powers to save _his beloved Isolde_ but hadn't. More than once, usually after drinking a little too much, Tristan had actually went at Merlin, calling him a selfish coward who only took action when there was something for him or Arthur to gain. Merlin never defended himself against these attacks, just lowered his head in shame, looking as guilty as Guilt itself.

When Tristan had spurred his horse and galloped through the gates, Arthur couldn't have helped but wondered – as he always did when Tristan left the castle – if he would ever see the man again. He doubted the knight himself knew if he would be coming back or not; there wasn't anything for him in Camelot, but neither was there anywhere else.

"It seems that this isn't working," Gaius' disappointed voice broke into Arthur's thoughts. "You did your best, Elk, but I think we should continue finding the cure – if it even exists – and ask the next person in."

Merlin had closed his eyes, but streams of tears were falling down on his cheeks. He was calling for his mother quietly, over and over again. Arthur leaned closer to wipe the tears away with his sleeve, tightening the loosened hold he had on Merlin's hand. Merlin didn't seem to notice. Which was good, Arthur reasoned, because otherwise it would have been just awkward. Although, at this point, he honestly didn't care.

Elk sighed and lowered the bowl of water down onto the table.

"Yes," he said. "I guess you are right, Gaius. I wish someone else can be of help. I am truly sorry I couldn't do more."

"You did your best," Gwen said with regret, "and we won't forget it. Thank you for your time."

Elk took his bundle of things and bowed deeply.

"I wish you all the best, my lady, my lords. May the spirits be kinder to you in the future."

In the end, none of the dozens of people queueing on Gaius' door managed to do anything for Merlin, to cure him, to stop the delusions, to relieve his pain. Shortly after the last one of them had left, a servant rushed in to inform them that Lady Helena was asking for Gaius, as she suspected she was going into labour.

"Go, Gaius," Arthur said, resigned, giving a small wave of dismissal with his hand, as he noticed the old man's hesitance. "I'll keep an eye on Merlin. At the moment, you can do more for Lady Helena and her baby, anyway, than for Merlin."

"If something happens-"

"I will send word for you, don't worry."

Eventually, with one last worried look at Merlin, Gaius gathered his equipment and left with the short-haired, resin-eyed girl trailing after him.

"I should probably go, too," Gwen admitted guiltily, looking after Gaius. "I promised Helena I would be there when the baby was born. She asked me to, said she was terrified and wanted her best friend close by now that Eustace is gone. But I can't just... _leave_ Merlin! I'm sure Helena would understand."

"Of course she would," Arthur agreed, because of course she would: Helena always understood – she was such a caring, sympathetic human being (even if her laughter was annoying and her sulks unbearable). "As would Merlin, if you went to her. I think Merlin would actually insist on you going to give Lady Helena comfort: he's such a... _girl_."

"Don't say 'girl' like it's a bad thing, Arthur. And really, what should I do? If I stay here with you and Merlin and something happens to Helena, I will regret my decision. But I will also regret my decision, if I go and something happens to Merlin while I'm gone."

"I think you should go," Arthur said gently. "If you go, both Merlin and Lady Helena will have their best friend by their side, no matter what."

Gwen bit her lip, undecided.

Eventually, Gwen left, too. And although it had been Arthur himself who had convinced both Gwen and Gaius to leave, he still had a sinking feeling that he and Merlin had just been abandoned.

Merlin's delusions came and changed abruptly. At one moment Merlin could be resting quietly, the next screaming like an animal that was being slaughtered. It was horrible, more than horrible. Unbearable, devastating, heart-rending. And Arthur could do nothing but try to stay calm, try to keep struggling Merlin on the bed and whisper soothing words in Merlin's ear, even though he doubted the man could even hear him.

Arthur lost his sense of time, as he kept a close eye on the black streak. When the streak reached Merlin's throat, it became much harder for Merlin to breath. He wheezed and gasped for air in his sleep, even after Arthur had laid him into a more upright position by making him rest on two more pillows. Watching his best friend's struggle, Arthur realized he had rarely felt himself so helpless.

"_Fight, Merlin_," he said, emphasizing both words. "Fight this miserable illness. You're _Emrys_, for goodness sake! If anyone can cure you, it's _you_. So heal yourself and don't be such a lazy, incompetent, work-evading fool. It's a simple spell for you, Merlin, I'm sure. Just... try it, at least. Please."

Nothing happened. His words didn't have any effect on Merlin who was still wheezing in his restless sleep.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? I said 'please'. Isn't that supposed to 'melt your heart', or something? Where's that foolish grin of yours when I for once would enjoy seeing it?"

"How_ convenient_," said a sudden voice right behind Arthur and Arthur jumped up, startled, twirling around, his hand going onto the hilt of his sword.

He came face to face with a middle-aged, unamused-looking woman who had apparently managed to sneak on him – she had probably used magic, Arthur decided. The woman had narrow face, sharp, grey eyes and long, black hair. She was wearing a green velvet cloak and leaned heavily on a black stick.

Arthur let go off the sword, but continued to regard the woman with suspicion.

"The Court Physician is absent at the moment... But I suppose you came here to help my Court Sorcerer?"

"Indeed, my young king," the woman said gravely, inclining her head. "Although, there is a lot of _love_ in this room – I can _sense_ it. I only ever loved myself, but fortunately I can stand this, as I feel certain... fascination towards those who love others. Besides, at times like these, I find love to be very _convenient_."

"And why is that?"

The woman smiled wrily.

"Because it means I get what I want. Love and desperation – what a combination. You are desperate to save your friend, King Pendragon, aren't you. Yes, you are: I can feel it, I can see it in your eyes. And if you love your friend as much as I think you do, it is, indeed, _very_ _convenient_ for me."

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**How "conveniently" did that woman just appear in the story out of nowhere! Well, perhaps we'll find out more about her later. So, what did you think?**

**And, of course, you can still spread the word about _Merlin's_ 6th season! I really, really want the season to happen! (I kinda think it will, too. :O Fingers crossed!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for your reviews! It's great that some people are still reading this story, makes me puff out my chest a bit more! :D**

**Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.  
**

**Warnings: some blood drinking and gross things  
**

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Convenient. Arthur didn't like the way woman said the word. Like they were negotiating about a treaty or something, when there was a man's life at stake – and a good one's at that! He gave the woman a frown of disapproval, but her blank expression didn't waver.

There was something very unsettling about the woman. In all honesty, Arthur didn't like having her anywhere near Merlin, especially not in Merlin's current condition, but their choises were limited. The woman was right: Arthur was desperate and if there was a chance, even a small one, that she could cure Merlin, he wanted to take that chance. But how could he be certain that the woman was there to help? What if she gave Merlin something poisonous, claiming it was the cure? If Merlin's condition worsened after the woman had given him some kind of a potion, Arthur might never know whether the woman had caused it intentionally or not. What if she-

"I can see you are troubled, my king," the woman said, smoothing down her cloak, "and I can understand it, to some degree. Perhaps I can make this easier for you by stating that it is relevant to me that Emrys lives, at least for now. There is something I want from you and to get it, I must save him."

"Who are you?" Arthur asked, guarded, sitting down on Merlin's bedside. "And what is this 'something' you want from me? I have promised a reward of over five thousand gold coins to anyone who can cure my Court Sorcerer – is that not enough for you?"

The woman looked at him coldly.

"I don't need money, not yours or otherwise."

She stepped closer and Arthur put a hand on Merlin's leg in a protective gesture. The woman narrowed her eyes, before letting out a quiet snort.

"If you want me to cure your friend, my foolish king, you must allow me to come closer. And don't be so suspicious about what I want. I am not after your kingdom or your queen's life, or anything like that. All I want as a reward of my services is one simple promise: I want you to give me your word that you will never, _never_, hurt my pets."

"Your... pets?" Arthur repeated cautiously.

After the ban on magic had been lifted, Arthur had learned to become cautious whenever people began talking about their pets. More than once the "fascinating pet Your Highness simply must see" had turned out to be something much more dangerous than just an ordinary, everyday falcon or a dog. In fact, more than once someone's "pet", often some kind of a chained magical beast, had tried to bite his head off. Or, if it was an ordinary pet, like a dog for instance, it had peed on him – Arthur still suspected _Lord Bark-Bark of Meadsville_ had actually been _trained_ to pee on him. By Gwaine, of course, who loved the stupid puppy dearly.

"What, exactly, are your pets?"

The woman's cold expression turned sinister, as she leaned on her stick more heavily.

"The real question should be," she said, eyeing Merlin with indifference, "how long, _exactly_, do you think it will take for your beloved friend to draw his last breath? Not long, I would suspect."

Arthur glowered at the woman darkly – he liked her less and less by every passing moment – but his gaze softened as he looked at Merlin. Then, noticing the black streak, sudden and immidiate terror filled his mind and he felt suddenly sick and light-headed: the streak had almost reached Merlin's heart, it was barely an inch away from it. How had it spread so fast?

Arthur lifted his gaze to look at Merlin's white, lifeless face. He could hear the wet gargling coming from somewhere inside Merlin's lungs, as Merlin was fast loosing his struggle for air. The reality hit Arthur like someone had punched him in the midriff: It wouldn't take long now. It _would not_ take long. Merlin was dying, _dying_. Merlin was _dying_! And Gaius would never be back in time to... to... Arthur should have send someone to get him earlier. He should've. Why hadn't he? Why hadn't he! And now Merlin was... Merlin was...

"Guards!" Arthur shouted and a man appeared to the doorway. "Go get Gaius! Tell him to hurry."

The guard bowed and left, but Arthur never noticed.

"No," he groaned instead and took a firm hold of Merlin's shoulders, resisting the natural urge to shake his friend, as the movement would have only increased the blood circulation causing the black streak to spread out even faster.

"No. Merlin – _Merlin_! Open your eyes, you stupid fool. Don't you dare go anywhere. Merlin! Come on, Merlin! Don't let it end like this. Not like this... After everything we've been through... _Fight this_! You're stronger than this. Fight!"

"I can still save him," the woman remarked calmly, limping to stand on the other side of the bed. "I will save him, if you promise not to hurt my pets."

"Fine," Arthur choked out, trying to see through the tears that blurred his vision, "_fine_. Do what you can. Just – save him."

"And I have your word that you won't hurt my pets?" the woman verified and Arthur gave her a curt nod.

"As long as you save him," he confirmed. "You have my word."

For a moment, the woman looked satisfied. Then her expression turned once again serious, and she took a bottle of something red from the hoards of her green cloak.

"This will heal him", she promised, opening the bottle. "Keep his mouth open."

Arthur did as he was told, prizing Merlin's jaw open, feeling more scared, desperate and hopeful than he had been in a long while.

The woman leaned closer and began to pour the red liquid in Merlin's throat, causing Merlin's eyes to flew open. Confused and terrified, Merlin struggled against Arthur's hold and coughed as if about to choke. There was faint recognition in Merlin's gaze, as he looked at Arthur, which was probably the only reason why he was yet to attack his king with his magic.

As Arthur watched, some of the red liquid bubbled up to Merlin' lips and out of his mouth, trickling down the corner of his mouth. It looked like blood. It smelled like blood. It made its way down Merlin's cheek and neck and Arthur stared at it, while whispering soothing nonsense in Merlin's ear and forcing Merlin's mouth to stay open.

The woman kept pouring, untill the bottle was empty.

"Close his mouth," she finally said, "and force him to swallow. We need to get it into his stomach for it to have any effect."

Once more Arthur did as he was told. He forced Merlin's lips together, untill Merlin had no other choice but to swallow. By then, tears were falling down Merlin's cheeks and he was staring at Arthur with blank, unseeing eyes.

"What did you give to him?" Arthur asked, once Merlin had exhausted himself by struggling and had gone limp in Arthur's arms. "What was in that bottle?"

"Strength," the woman stated simply and the empty bottle disappeared under her cloak. "Meaning, of course, Sir Gwaine's blood. I had to take it by force, as he charged at me, before I had time to explain myself properly. By the time I was finished, he was gushing blood more than was necessary, which, I admit, was very unfortunate; fortunately, I managed to fill up the bottle anyway, before his friend, Sir Elyan, regained consciousness and came to his aid."

Arthur lowered Merlin carefully onto the mattress, before climbing out of the bed.

"Am I to understand," he said slowly, quietly, "that you attacked my knights? That you took _blood_ from one of my _friends_?"

"In order to save your other _friend_, yes," the woman said drily, glancing at Merlin. "But do not fear, Once and Future King, I don't think either one of your knights died. And, in any case, because of Sir Gwaine's small sacrifice, Emrys will continue to exist. Isn't that something you should be... 'delighted' of?"

Arthur unsheathed his sword and positioned himself between Merlin and the woman. His wrist protested the weight of the heavy sword, but he didn't pay it any mind, changing the sword from the aching hand to the other with ease.

"For all I know, you might have killed my knights with your magic," he said, taking a threatening step forward. "If that is the case, you shall pay it with your life. And how is Sir Gwaine's blood supposed to cure my Court Sorcerer, anyway, _you witch_?"

For the first time, as far as Arthur knew, the woman looked amused. Smirking, she stroke her long black hair and gave Arthur her full attention.

"Sir Gwaine is Strength," she explained. "His mind is strong, his soul is strong, his body is strong – his blood is strong. In any case, his blood is stronger than Emrys' – or yours. Sir Gwaine is _Strength_, my young king. Black Snake was feasting on Emrys' blood, but now that there is much stronger blood in Emrys' stomach, Black Snake will be drawn to it. The stronger the blood, the more Black Snake enjoys it, you see. Once Black Snake has moved fully into Emrys' stomach, Emrys will retch and the snake will come up. That's how simple it is. And yes, King Arthur, it is a real snake, not some meagre sickness as you humen always think. Black Snake is a Snake of Many Forms."

"How do you know that?" Arthur pressed, threatening the woman with his Excalibur. "And why should I believe you?"

The amused smirk on the woman's face turned into a full smile.

"I know," she said gently, still stroking her hair, "because I know my pets."

With that her long black hair suddenly turned into dozens of black snakes, all biting down on her scalp with their sharp fangs. Arthur stared, tightening the hold of his sword. She grabbed one of the snakes into her hand and pulled it away from her head.

"I know everything there is to know of my beloved pets," she said, observing the snake. "After all, I am the Lady of Black Snakes. I am their queen and their mother."

"The Lady of Black Sn- _you made Merlin sick_!" Arthur realized and took another step closer, barely containing his fury. "How did you do it? Was he bitten by one of your snakes?"

"Of course not," the lady snorted. "I never use my snakes to hurt anyone myself. I only ever borrow them for _others to use_, if someone makes me an offer interesting enough, as happened this time as well. All I did was to give one of my snakes – in a form of a hair, as they feel most comfortable looking like hair, for some reason – to someone who then melted it and made your sorcerer drink it, thus causing the snake to enter his body. My snakes endure melting very well, as they are very adaptable. Besides, I only came here after finding out who had been attacked, after realizing I could use the situation to my own advantage. Let me assure you, had I wanted Emrys to die, he would be dead by now."

Just then, Merlin retched and, glancing behind his back, Arthur could see something – a _snake_ – moving inside Merlin's throat. The warlock was once again struggling for air, but not for long, this time: only a moment later, a long, black snake wriggled out of his mouth with its yellow eyes glowing like two tiny moons. When the snake had left his body, Merlin drew in deep breaths, turning to his side and moaning quietly. Arthur felt torn between going to his friend and staying between him and the lady in case further protecting was needed.

The black snake glanced around, before making its way to its queen and mother. The Lady of Black Snakes smiled at Arthur cruelly, as the snake hissed its greetings and the other snakes hissed their answers, dropping onto the floor one by one, as they opened their mouths and let their hold off the lady's scalp to loosen.

"You promised not to hurt my pets, if I healed your sorcerer," the now bald Lady reminded Arthur, staring pointedly at his sword. "Now that I have healed him and he will be well, I believe it is time for me to see if you truly are a man of your word, King Arthur. You see, my king, my snakes are growing hungry and I have promised them a proper meal. I have promised they can eat a king. I have promised they can eat you."

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**Any thoughts?**

**Still a couple of chapters to go.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for the reviews! They made feel so happy! :)  
**

**Warnings: violence, OC death**

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"Interesting," Arthur said sarcastically. "Do you often make promises you cannot keep?"

"Never," The Lady said, smirking, but the look in her eyes remained cold and cruel. "I never make false promises."

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Well, this time you certainly did."

The cold eyes flashed and the Lady let out a snake-like hiss.

"If you go against your word, Arthur Pendragon, I will _curse_ you. I will curse you, like I have cursed all those people before you! I will make you a monster, a beast, that your own wife will fear and detest! You will be hated and hunted and slaughtered by your own men, by those most loyal to you!"

Arthur rolled his eyes – like Merlin couldn't find a way to lift any curse if it came to that – but took still a cautious step backwards as the snakes neared him.

"I am a man of my word," he stated proudly, lifting his chin and straightening his back. "So curses of any kind are not needed. I have no intention of hurting your 'pets': I gave you my word I wouldn't hurt them – and _I_ always keep my promises."

"That doesn't mean, though," he added then, speaking slowly and clearly as if addressing someone very dumb and simple-minded, because, yes, he was exactly that angry and annoyed, "that I'm going to just stand still and allow your snakes to eat me."

"What are you going to do, then?" the Lady asked, mocking, looking slightly interested, as she sat down on one of Gaius' work stools to watch. "Emrys is still too far gone to save you and no-one can get in..."

A loud bang emphasized her words, as the door and windows slammed shut simultaneously.

"...because I just blocked all possible entrances. No-one can get in; you cannot get out."

Arthur glanced around and noticed she was speaking the truth. Even the fireplace had been blocked by one of the tables. He glowered at the woman, hoping Merlin would just wake up already: once again there was a perfect opportunity for the great Court Sorcerer of Camelot to actually do something useful to earn his wages – and to be the great Court Sorcerer of Camelot! Merlin had been so bored of late. This kind of an encounter was just what he needed.

But, of course, Merlin couldn't be doing anything any time soon. Arthur clenched Excalibur and assessed the situation, trying to remain calm and collected. He wasn't going to show it, but he was scared. He was honestly _scared_. And the sound of Merlin moaning and crying quietly was tearing at his heart and making him loath the woman in front of them, sneering at them, enjoying their desperation.

It would have been easy to just kill the snakes, Arthur decided – focusing on the pressing danger instead of his feelings – but he _had given his word_ to not hurt the disgusting creatures and he had no intention of breaking it, even if it meant that he was going to get eaten alive: As a king, he had to be an example of honourable behaviour, if he wanted his men to be the same. As a king, he would always be a man of his word, no matter the cost. Arthur _yearned_ to be a worthy, honourable, wise king.

Arthur glanced at the bed. Merlin was still moaning quietly, obviously still not quite aware of his surroundings. Arthur cleared his throat.

"You said you are a mother of these... creatures," he said, waving Excalibur at the snakes, taking another step backwards. "How exactly do you create them? I don't suppose you gave birth to them naturally – even if you do resemble each other quite a lot."

"How _predictable_," the Lady sighed, looking disappointed. "I don't understand why you Brave Ones _always_ begin to blabber at this point. Is it to gain time? Or are you honestly believing that you could affect me with your silly words? I always expect more from you, but to be honest, I am constantly disappointed."

By now, the snakes were close enough to attack him, Arthur noted, but for some reason they were not yet attacking. Observing the creatures subtly, he noticed that some of them kept glancing at their queen impatiently, as if waiting for her permission to bite. Arthur frowned, considering.

"It seems I live a life of constant disappointments... You brave people even ask the same kind of questions," the Lady shook her head incrediously. "So predictable, indeed... I always give the same answer: my thoughts are so evil that my hair turns into snakes. I don't know why, but that just happens. Who cares, really. Not me, at least."

The snakes hissed and, with a start, the Lady seemed to notice their impatience.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my pets!" she cooed at the hissing snakes. "Didn't I remember to give you the permission to eat, yet? Don't worry. Feel free to start eating the king any moment you-"

She never finished her sentence, as her head fell onto the floor with a soft thump, followed shortly after by her lifeless body. As her blood spread out on the floor, the snakes turned to ash, one after another, looking as surprised as snakes could. Which meant they didn't look surprised at all.

Arthur cleaned Excalibur of blood, before sheathing the sword.

"I kept my word," he said, addressing the corpse on the floor. "I promised to not hurt your pets. I never promised not to hurt you."

He turned to go, but sudden pain in his leg made him halt. Looking down at his leg, he managed to caught sight of the last one of the snakes biting on his leg, before the creature disappeared, turning into ash.

"Damn it!" he swore. "That little..."

He hopped to Merlin's bed and sat down to observe his leg more closely. If bite marks could look evil, this one certainly did just that. It was red and _evil_, and the leg swelled up as he watched.

"Great," he huffed, taking off his shoe and shoving his leg into the water jug Gaius had positioned next to Merlin's bed, wishing the cold water could slow the venom from spreading out.

"Like this day wasn't inconvenient enough already – don't you agree, Merlin? Of course you do. You _always_ agree with _everything_ I say, don't you. Yes, you do. I just saved the day, Merlin, didn't I? What did you just say? Oh, well, yes, thank you, Merlin. That is quite enough, really. No need to praise me more, even if I truly am great.

Arthur sighed gravely, turning his face to look at his friend, feeling suddenly drained.

"You're getting better, right? Because it would be so lonely if you weren't. I don't think I could take it, to be honest, even if I have Gwen and Gwaine and Leon and... everyone. You remember your solemn, over-dramatic speech about two sides of the same coin? I do. And I have a feeling that if one of us goes... somewhere, _anywhere_, the other will follow shortly after. After all, there are no coins with only one side, are there, _Mer_lin. No, there are not. Nice that you're so agreeable today. Though I'd prefer it if you actually said something. But I know you won't, because you never do what I want you to do."

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes. Everything wasn't so horrible and devastating anymore. In fact, the world was quite warm and bright and lovely (for the most part). Just as he realized this, a sudden breeze hit him and he heard a thump and a loud snap. Yawning, he sat up and noticed to his surprise that he wasn't in his own chambers anymore. Apparently, at some point, he had been brought to Gaius' chambers. Usually that meant one of two things: 1) the knights were playing tricks on him again or 2) he had been brought to Gaius because he was sick or injured. Either way, waking up confused in Gaius' chambers wouldn't have been the first time for him.

Still, Merlin doubted the knights would have dared to do anything this time, because Arthur had been livid with him and he was still under chamber arrest, wasn't he, and the knights wouldn't do anything if it meant that Merlin would get into trouble. _Real_ trouble, that was. Just "trouble" they didn't mind at all. At least Gwaine didn't and, if he felt like it, usually so silent Percival could be almost as sneaky and mischievous.

This time, knights weren't to blame. He had probably been sick or injured, then, Merlin realized. He studied his body and assessed his condition. His muscles and throat were a bit sore, there was a horrible irony taste in his mouth, his stomach hurt and he was quite thirsty, but otherwise there seemed to be nothing wrong with him. Nothing life-threatening, at least, which was something he had learned to keep an eye on, eventually. Kind of. Well, he was still working on that, if he was completely honest with himself. In any case, he mused, he had probably been sick and was now healthy again. Which was rather nice. Being healthy again, that was, of course. Not the having been sick part. No-one Merlin knew liked to be sick and he certainly didn't. (Still, this time it was a good explanation, having been sick – for a moment Merlin had actually thought he might have accidentally used his magic to move himself from his own chambers to Gaius' chambers, as this was where he had wanted to be the last time he remembered thinking: he could just imagine what Arthur would have said about that had it been the case!)

Merlin turned to put his feet on the floor – and yelped as his toes touched something warm, something _living_. He peeked over the side of the bed and saw Arthur, his friend King Arthur of Camelot, who was laying on the floor on his stomach, Merlin's blanket almost covering him. Arthur's right leg was in a water jug for some reason, but the man was obviously unconscious, as he wasn't screaming in pain: Arthur was laying on his broken wrist, which must have been painful.

Arthur had apparently fell off the bed, causing the thump that had alerted Merlin. Merlin had felt the breeze as Arthur had taken his blanket with him. And the loud snap had been caused by Arthur's wrist breaking, yet again.

Merlin sighed and hurried to help his friend, wondering worriedly what might have caused Arthur to lose his consciousness.

Merlin had managed to lift Arthur onto the bed and was just covering him with the blanket, when he noticed a bald head laying on a pool of blood next to one of Gaius' work stools. Next to the bald head, there was a woman's body, covered in a green cloak. And all over the room there were small piles of ash.

Merlin stood up straight, before giving Arthur a glare.

"Next time, when I'm sick," he muttered, "just tea and simple soup, please. No headless bodies or bodyless heads or ash piles or unconscious kings or broken wrists or stupid legs stuck in stupid water jugs. Simple tea and soup will do just fine."

He snapped his fingers and the water jug split in two, freeing Arthur's stupid leg.

Arthur's swollen, black and red leg that was dribbling with something thick and black and horrible-smelling.

_Oh no_!

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**I hope you've liked the story so far!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Writing this while watching the olympic games (way to go British people!).  
**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! I figured the best thanks would be to write another chapter as soon as possible? So here it is, then. :)  
**

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When King Arthur had ordered him to "go get Gaius", Tucker had been too nervous to ask where, exactly, the Court Physician might be. Now, at the age of twentyone, it was the first time he had been trusted with keeping guard over the Court Physician's door while _the king_ and Emrys the Court Sorcerer were inside the chambers trusting their safety and privacy into his hand.

It was a task not to be taken lightly and Tucker was desperate to do it well. When the king had personally called him in and given him the order to "go get Gaius", Tucker had simply bowed and left, too nervous and honoured to bother His Highness with a question like "Where can I find him, Sire?" when the king clearly thought he should have already known the answer. So, instead of asking, Tucker simply ran around the castle like a mad man, asking his friends and acquaintances if any of them happened to know where the Court Physician was. No-one was of help – untill he finally bumped into Rufus who usually knew everything, when it came to the security of the members of the court (or lopping branches off apple trees, or, well, anything to do with apples or trees).

"In Lady Helena's chambers, of course," Rufus gave him the answer, munching an apple. "But you cannot go in there. The lady is having a... sensitive moment that she would, without a doubt, wish to stay private. You better wait outside the door untill the Court Physician is ready to leave, before you ask to speak with him. That's what I would do, anyway."

Tucker nodded, uncertain, but Rufus marched away before he found the courage to ask if he should just interrupt the "sensitive moment" anyway, as the message was from the king himself. A bit later, Tucker found himself lingering outside Lady Helena's door, listening to pained screams and muffled voices, his hand going up and down, as he didn't know if he should knock or not.

Finally the screams stopped and Tucker could hear a _baby_ letting out a cry. Then, eventually, Gaius stepped out, smiling faintly to himself and closing the door behind him quietly.

At once, Tucker stood at the ready.

"The king is asking for you, Sire," he informed the Court Physician whose face lost immidiately the small smile and turned grim and worried. "He asks you to hurry."

And hurry Gaius did.

* * *

Merlin felt light-headed, as he tottered towards the potion shelf. Whatever it was he had been sick with had apparently left him weaker than he had initially thought. Laying down was _fine_, even sitting was _fine_, but standing up and lifting heavy things like kings and walking around was clearly _not fine_.

Once he reached his destination, feeling suddenly nauseous, Merlin dry-heaved and had to actually lean on the steady shelf to prevent himself from keeling over. Blinking and breathing heavily through his nose, he managed to clear his blurry vision and focused on looking for the blue bottle he knew Gaius had in store in case of snake bites.

Arthur had been bitten by a snake, that much had become obvious as soon as Merlin had noticed the fang marks, the two tiny puncture wounds right above Arthur's ankle. What kind of a snake it had been, well, that Merlin didn't know, but in Camelot there were mainly whipping snakes, so it had probably been one of them. Although, Merlin had never before seen a reaction this bad caused by a whipping snake bite. But Arthur always had to do everything the hard way anyway, didn't he, so of course he would go to extremes with snake bites as well.

A nagging thought that the bite could have something to do with the dead woman and the ash piles lingered in Merlin's mind, but he couldn't afford to be absorbed in thought in a moment like this. In any case, when Arthur got better, he could tell Merlin everything about the woman and how – and why – the woman had lost her head in the first place.

Merlin did wonder briefly, though, if the ash piles had originally been snakes of sorts, or other magical creatures, and if the woman had been a sorceress trying to kill him with the snakes and if Arthur had been bitten while saving Merlin from getting killed by the snakes. Would not have been the first time Arthur prevented someone from "getting rid of Emrys". Perhaps, when Merlin had still been in his own chambers, the woman had attacked him, catching him off guard? Perhaps someone – Fergus and Abarrus, for example, as Fergus had magic and they had been right outside his door – had managed to interfere in time and the woman had fled? And then, once Merlin had been brought to Gaius' chambers, unconscious and injured, the woman had returned, trying to finish her work, only to be confronted with Arthur and Excalibur?

Whatever the truth, Merlin wished no harm had come to anyone else. Gaius wasn't anywhere to be seen and Merlin was worried about him, wondering where Gaius was and if the woman had... _done something_ to Gaius.

And why, oh why, hadn't Arthur been wearing his leather boots! What was it with everyone wearing these stupid, tapered shoes lately, anyway? Stupid fad. Stupid shoes! Stupid everything! If Arthur had had his leather boots on, no snake could have punctured the skin on his ankle, no matter a whipping snake or a magical ash snake.

"I don't like your shoes," he told the unconscious, choking man, wiping tears on his sleeve angrily. "And why isn't Gaius here? Where is he? He should be _here_ with us!"

Arthur had trouble breathing. He was gasping for air and letting out choked noices that caused Merlin more fear and pain than Merlin cared to admit. Eyeing his friend worriedly, Merlin noticed Arthur's lips had turned blue.

Arthur needed instant help. He was fading fast. Merlin felt it all too clearly.

"Oh no, _no, no, no,_" Merlin said, knocking over items in the shelf with clumsy, unco-ordinated movements, looking frantically around for the blue bottle. "Come on..."

Tens of green bottles – many brown bottles – countless bowls of herbs – a purple bottle – another purple b-

Just then Merlin heard _it_, and twirled around fast, falling onto his hands and knees, as the sudden movement caused dizziness to come over him. His head was spinning and the world became a canvas of paint smear that made no sense at all, and still he could hear _it_ echoing in his mind:

Arthur letting out one last, choked sigh – before stopping breathing altogether.

For a moment, Merlin was freezed to the spot, feeling a cold weight in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head, he then snapped out of his shocked state, snapped into action, determined and steadfast, even if his hands were shaking quite a bit.

"Right," he muttered, scrambling to his feet with the help of the friendly potion shelf. "Right."

He didn't know how exactly it happened, but a moment later, although exhausted, he was sitting on Arthur's bedside. Closing his eyes, Merlin swallowed nervously and put his hands on Arthur's ankle, not quite sure what he was about to do but doing his damn best to do it anyway.

He unleashed his magic and his magic wasted no time plunging into Arthur's ankle.

It was... weird. Yes, that was the word. Weird. And uncomfortable. Weird. As if his magic was having a full-blown battle in Arthur's ankle. Whatever he was fighting with, was persistent and ruthless, but, fortunately, also loosing fast. It didn't take long for Merlin's magic to pull out of the ankle, dragging a shadow – a memory of sorts, an echo – of a horrible, yellow-eyed snake with it. The shadow of the snake hissed at Merlin, failing in its various attempts to charge at Merlin. Then, slowly, it faded away untill there was nothing left of it.

Not a whipping snake, then, after all.

Arthur was breathing again, steadily and calmly, and the swelling on his leg was already going down. That much Merlin realized, before he was hit with exhaustion and leaned on Arthur to rest for... just... a... little... while...

* * *

Gaius burst into his chambers, but the inquiry on his lips died the moment he took in the scene in front of him. There, laying on the bed, covered carefully with a blanket was Arthur, pale-faced and fast asleep, if the quiet snoring was anything to go by; and there, leaning on Arthur was Merlin_ – Merlin! – _still pale but in a noticeable better condition than he had been when Gaius had left.

As Gaius hurried closer, Merlin sat up, blinking his eyes groggily.

"Oh, hey, Gaius," Merlin said with a tired smile, as if he hadn't been laying on his death bed just hours earlier. "I was wondering where you were. Was worried. Was just about to go look for you..."

And then Merlin's eyes closed and he fell on his back on top of Arthur's legs with quietly mumbled, "...soft legs."

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**Thank you for reading and sticking with my story! :D Feedback is welcome, as always.**

******Also, would be nice if someone could educate me and tell me what's the difference between fight "to death" and "to _the_ death". It seems that both are used (?), but I suppose there is some kind of a subtle difference there that I'm not noticing? What is it? I used the term in the earlier chapters and it's been bothering me ever since. It's stuff like this that makes writing in English difficult at times. Not that I'm complaining, of course, because I'm not. I'd just like to learn more. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Another chapter. I wasn't content with my original ending, so I rewrote this. Hopefully the chapter now fits in the story line better, even if it will lengthen the story with a couple of chapters (I originally intended this to be the last one). I won't drag this on and on, though. Don't worry. :D  
**

**Thank you for helping me with my grammar and for reviewing my story!**

**And now to the story...**

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"Hadn't heard that particular swear word before," Elyan said drily, his left arm _chaining_ Gwaine against his chest, while his right hand hold the reins. "And I would've done perfectly well without ever hearing it too, I should add. Where did you even learn it? From the goblins? In some tavern anyway, I bet. Over a tankard full of mead?"

Gwaine didn't answer, too focused on trying to break free, so that he could mount his own horse and go find the druids and a cure for Merlin. Merlin _needed the cure_, no matter how much Elyan insisted that they needed to go to see Gaius instead.

Gwaine struggled against the unyielding arm with frustration. Yes, alright, he might have been bleeding, but it was _obvious_ that he wasn't doing _that_ bad, as he was still conscious and sitting up, even if Elyan was helping a bit with that sitting up part by keeping him sitting up. And the fact that Elyan was able to hold him still with only one arm didn't necessarily mean... mean anything! Not a thing. Not one single thing. Didn't mean a thing. So, take that, Elyan's arm!

"I'm sorry for this, Gwaine," Elyan said suddenly, quietly, sincerely. "I really am. So terribly sorry. Please believe that this was not an easy decision to make."

"If the druids have the cure," Gwaine said, slurring the words but not caring in the slightest, "and you save _me_ instead of riding to get the cure for _Merlin_, Arthur will never forgive either one of us – and neither will I, if Merlin dies."

The arm holding him tightened its grip and he felt Elyan let out a shaky breath.

"Merlin wouldn't want you to die like this, Gwaine. I am _not_ letting you bleed to death just so that I can try and go look for a cure that Gaius doesn't even believe exists! I was ready to seek for it, but now the situation has changed. And at least, this way, my brother-in-law won't lose both of his best friends."

They were riding towards Camelot, Gwaine's right arm and shoulder still bleeding, even though Elyan had done his best to staunch the flow of blood. Gwaine's horse, Old Hag, was following closely after them, bearing their equipment, as Elyan's horse had to carry both knights.

"You should really mind your language," Elyan muttered, as Gwaine let out a long litany of his best dwarven swear words, "even though there are no ladies present and the situation is what it is. You're a knight of Camelot, after all."

"Shut up," Gwaine croaked tiredly, his head lolling on Elyan's shoulder.

"Merlin needs the cure," he then remembered with a start. "We need to go find it! Leave me here, Elyan, and go to the druids. You'll ride faster without may."

"Me," Elyan corrected. "'Withouth _me_.' And don't worry: I'll ride to the druids as soon as I've taken you to Gaius, if it's still... Well, I mean, if the cure is still needed, when we get there. If someone else hasn't found it already, that is, of course."

* * *

"You should be dead, my boy," Gaius said, amazed, as he lowered another bowl of pea soup down onto the table in front of Merlin. "But I am more than happy that you are not. No-one has ever survived the Black Snake before, at least not to my knowledge."

Merlin grabbed the bowl with both hands and slurped the soup contently. Slurping, he slurped and slurped, slurping all he could now that Gaius wasn't, for once, scolding him for slurping, as he was still too amazed to see that Merlin was, in fact, alive and well.

Merlin really liked slurping. Somehow it made eating soup more enjoyable.

"Bread?" Gwen asked, presenting Merlin with a basket full of various pastries. "Eat all you want. Or would you prefer something else? Pie, perhaps? Or unleavened bread? I think we even have cake, if you'd like that."

Merlin stopped slurping and peeked over his bowl. Gaius, Gwen and Sophia were all staring at him, his every move, with wonder. Feeling suddenly self-conscious under the close scrutiny, Merlin put the bowl slowly down onto the table and gave his audience an embarrassed smile.

"No, thank you," he said, reaching for the spoon awkwardly. "Soup is more than enough. I'm not even that hungry, really."

It was all about the slurping, after all.

"Perhaps some pie would still be in order," Gaius mused, hurrying to observe the contents of the basket Gwen had put on the table. "You need to regain your strength."

"Well," Merlin grinned, winking mischievously at little Sophia who was observing him from the other side of the table, her small face full of worry and amusement, "if you _insist_, I guess I wouldn't mind eating some cake. Although, honestly, Gaius, I feel great. I feel as strong as ever!"

Gwen patted his arm and smiled at him gently, but then her smile turned wistful and sad, as her gaze wandered to the lone figure laying on the bed on the other side of the room.

"How long do you think it will take before Arthur wakes up, Gaius?"

"It's hard to say, my lady," Gaius admitted. "But considering the circumstances, we can be grateful that he is doing as well as he is."

Grateful. The spoon Merlin was holding halted in midair. Grateful. Well, yes, he supposed. They were all alive, weren't they. That was certainly something to be grateful for. They still didn't know how exactly Merlin had been cured, but Arthur probably knew. Now all they had to do was to simply wait for the man to wake up and tell them. It couldn't take too long.

Merlin's wonderings came to an abrupt end, as the door suddenly banged open and Elyan pushed his way in, carrying unconscious Gwaine with three guards.

"Onto the bed," Elyan ordered, after a quick glance at the room in general. "The one on the king's left side. Gaius, quickly – Gwaine has been injured."

Merlin's spoon clattered on the floor, as he jumped up and hurried to help the guards to lower Gwaine onto the bed, his chest turning tight with sudden worry.

Gwaine was breathing rapidly, shallowly. His skin was sweaty and clammy to touch, his right arm soaked with blood from the shoulder all the way down to his fingers. Merlin swallowed, his eyes flashing gold as he removed the bloodstained hauberk and the bloodsoaked shirt underneath it, assessing his friend's condition the best he could. Gaius hurried pass by him, while Elyan thanked the guards and told them to go back to their posts.

"What happened?" Merlin asked tightly, just as Elyan inquired, "What's wrong with the king?"

Elyan glanced at Merlin with a deep frown on his forehead. Then his eyes suddenly widened and he looked at Merlin again, this time with intent, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing down.

"_Merlin?_" he asked cautiously with obvious disbelief. Receiving a confirming nod from his sister over Merlin's shoulder, a slow, relieved smile then formed on his face. "Merlin!" he exclaimed, grasping Merlin's arms and giving him a little, delighted shake. "You're alive! I can't believe this. You're alive, really _alive_!"

"He is, but he should _not_ be shaken," Gaius huffed, preparing to stitch up the wound on Gwaine's shoulder, while Sophia poured purple potion into it. "Or worried, or put under any kind of pressure. Merlin is not fully recovered yet, even if _he_ thinks he is. He needs to eat and rest, nothing more. And for the king – he is just sleeping. In time, they will be both fine, I am certain. As will Gwaine, I believe. The whole bottle, Sophia, yes. Good. Put some pressure on the wound on his arm, while I tend to his shoulder. Remember how the bleeding limb should always be kept above the heart? Yes, just like that. Now, apart from the bleeding and the amount of blood on his clothing, can you tell me the signs that indicate that the patient is suffering from serious blood loss?"

"What happened, Elyan?" Merlin demanded again, watching Gwaine and trying not to listen to Sophia naming all the symptoms of blood loss she could notice on Gwaine.

Elyan let go off Merlin's arms, his face clouding again.

"We were attacked," he said grimly. "Near the Singing Pond. By an evil witch. She appeared out of nowhere, shouting she was there for 'Sir Gwaine's blood.' We managed to drew our swords, but then she struck me unconscious with her magic. By the time I was aware again, she was kneeling by Gwaine's side, filling a bottle with his blood. She disappeared as soon as I stood up. I didn't manage to catch her... And then I had to make a choice between trying to find the druids or taking Gwaine to Gaius."

Gaius had told Merlin about Arthur sending knights to find the cure for his sickness; Merlin had already called for the dragons and asked them to look for the missing knights, so that they knew to come back home already – knowing the knights and their Honour Code, they would have just wandered around aimlessly till they were old men rather than returned to Camelot empty-handed.

"I chose the latter, as you can see," Elyan continued, bowing his head, as if he was ashamed to admit he had chosen to save Gwaine's life instead of looking for a cure for Merlin. "I was afraid Gwaine would... not have made it otherwise, my lord."

"Don't call me a lord," Merlin asked, blushing. "You never call me a lord. And I like it that way! My name is _Merlin_, after all, isn't it. Not some ridiculous title Arthur insists on me having. And, Elyan, you made the right choice. Your choice saved Gwaine's life."

Elyan gave the floor an unsure nod, swallowing hard, obviously still troubled.

"Oh, Elyan... Are you okay?" Gwen asked, slipping her arm around his waste. "Come, you should sit down. Let me help you. Are you hurting anywhere?"

"I'm just a bit sore. I'll be fine, Gwen, don't worry."

"What did the witch look like?" Merlin asked then, as soon as they had helped Elyan to seat himself at the table.

If there was a witch attacking people in Camelot, it was definately something the Court Sorcerer should be taking care of, sooner rather than later. Merlin seethed: How could any magic user be so _selfish_ as to start attacking others when the kingdom was still trying to get used to magic users! Or ever, for that matter. After everything magic users had had to endure, it really was not the time to start testing the tentative balance that they, both magic users and those who didn't have magic, had managed to create _together_. Besides, the witch had attacked _Gwaine_ and_ Elyan_, so there was all the more reason for this to be _personal_, as far as Merlin was concerned.

"Was she young or old?" he pressed gently. "Tall or short? What about the colour of her clothing?"

"She had a green cloak," Elyan said, frowning in concentration, as he tried to remember everything that could be of help to Merlin. "And long dark hair. Black or brown, not sure which one. I think she might have been limping."

"How old you would say she was?"

"Um, in her fourties? Fifties? Hard to say. Could've been younger, too. Or older. It... happened very quickly. I really don't know."

Merlin nodded, straightening his back.

"I will look into this," he promised. "You did well, Elyan. Don't worry about anything. You just rest."

"_You_ just rest, _Mer_lin," came the annoyed order from the direction of the beds and, twirling around, Merlin could see his king pushing himself into a sitting position on his bed, an upset look on his face.

* * *

******I used "to death" in this chapter, hopefully correctly. Did you happen to spot it? :D**

**Some of the characters might have been a bit OC in this chapter, but if you thought that, try to forgive me.**

**So, any thoughts?  
**


	11. Chapter 11

One moment Arthur was sitting on Merlin's bedside, willing for Gaius to return and for Merlin to come round already – the next he knew he was falling, as the world suddenly tilted and the floor seemed to shoot up. He tried to stop his fall by taking a firm grasp on something, but he hit the ground anyway. By the time the blanket he had grasped fell over him, the pain on his ankle and wrist were so unbearable that he embraced unconsciousness gratefully. Then, for a long while, he knew of nothing.

* * *

_"He's sweating a lot. His skin is cool and clammy. His breathing is shallow and his heartbeat weak and rapid."_

Arthur didn't recognize the girl-like voice, but he presumed she was talking about him, because usually when he woke up to someone listing signs of blood loss, they were, in fact, talking about him. He frowned, trying to breathe more deeply, and ended up sighing. The blanket he was covered with smelt of tar – and was very warm indeed. And, yes, he _might_ have been sweating a bit because of that, but could his skin really be described as "cool and clammy"? Arthur touched his bare stomach warily. Surely not? At least he didn't think so. His skin felt as it should, didn't it? Warm, but not too much so. And he didn't even remember bleeding, so blood loss was-

His ankle! Arthur suddenly remembered. He had been bitten in the ankle! By a black snake! Had his ankle been bleeding? He didn't think it had, not a lot anyway, but perhaps he just hadn't noticed.

Arthur forced his eyes open. He was still in Gaius' chambers, it seemed, laying on the bed Merlin had occupied the last time Arthur had been conscious. Apparently Merlin didn't need the bed anymore, then. There were really only two reasons why that could be, but Arthur was quick to rule out the other, the more... upsetting one, as he saw Merlin standing with Gwen and Elyan in the middle of the room, looking considerably healthier if also upset but definately not dead, which was the most important thing in any case.

There was no sign of the Lady of Black Snakes anywhere and Arthur presumed her head and body had been taken away while he had been unconscious. Some of the ash piles were still there, though, and Arthur glared at them as if they were still snakes, before moving his leg cautiously. Eventually his foot took a peek from under the blanket and Arthur could observe it more closely: the swelling had gone down and it didn't look either red or _evil_ anymore. The ankle looked normal, really. Healthy. "Ankly," as Merlin might have said.

After testing the movement of his ankle, first gingerly, then more boldly, Arthur decided that there was nothing at all wrong with his foot as far as he could tell. Huh. Who knew.

Well, Arthur knew exactly _who_ it was that _knew_, and so he let his gaze wander to Merlin. The friendly remark, his way of expressing gratitude, on his lips died as soon as he took in the haunted expression on the warlock's face. Merlin looked... scared. Worried. Shaken, even. And a bit angry. He was also staring at something intently. Arthur followed Merlin's gaze to the bed next to his, but all he could see was Gaius' back, even after he craned his neck to take a better look.

"What happened, Elyan?" Merlin was asking, his quiet voice tight and uncharacteristically demanding.

"We were attacked."

Arthur stiffened, feeling a cold weight in the pit of his stomach: Attacked? _Attacked_? Was Camelot under attack? By whom?

"Near the Singing Pond," Elyan continued and Arthur turned to look at him, his eyes narrowing. "By an evil witch. She appeared out of nowhere, shouting she was there for 'Sir Gwaine's blood.' We managed to drew our swords, but then she struck me unconscious with her magic. By the time I was aware again, she was kneeling by Gwaine's side, filling a bottle with his blood."

There was no attack against Camelot, Arthur realized, relieved. Then he grasped the full meaning of Elyan's words and let out a quiet snarl, clenching his fist. No-one seemed to notice, too focused on staring at the other bed.

The Lady of Black Snakes. Elyan was talking about _the Lady of Black Snakes_!

It seemed that _Arthur_ wasn't the one with blood loss after all; suddenly Arthur knew who it was on the bed next to his, and he loathed, _hated_, the Lady of Black Snakes even more than before. Arthur felt fury filling up his mind and he snapped his head to his left to stare at the bed next to his. He was just about to order Gaius to move aside and to "show him how bad", when the man happened to do exactly that, stretching out to take something from the foot of the bed, thus exposing the motionless figure laying on the bed.

Gwaine. Gwaine was pale, so pale, far too pale for Gwaine. Not really even "pale", as much as white, white as snow. And he wasn't talking, wasn't moving, wasn't raising his eyebrow at Arthur as if saying, "Slept enough already, princess? Was actually wondering if I needed to go to look for a handsome prince to wake you up with a kiss," or something just as infuriating.

Gwaine was _not_ supposed to be silent and still. He was supposed to be irritating and loud and impudent almost to the side of vulgar. The amount of blood on Gwaine's right side and on the sheets was unsettling, but Arthur refused to acknowledge the sudden fear that clasped his heart. Gwaine would be _fine_, surely. Gaius was tending to him, wasn't he. _Gwaine would be fine_.

"What did the witch look like?" Merlin was asking from somewhere further away.

Arthur was still focused on staring at Gwaine's direction, even if Gaius had once again blocked his line of sight. He took a quick glance at Merlin's direction. They had moved closer to the table, Elyan, Gwen and Merlin. Gwen was sitting next to Elyan, a reassuring arm around his waist, while Merlin stood in front of the table, his arms folded and his back on Arthur.

"Was she young or old?" Merlin pressed. "Tall or short? What about the colour of her clothing?"

Arthur frowned. Merlin should have known already. He had seen the witch, hadn't he? How could he had not – Arthur had killed her: she _had_ laid on Gaius' floor the last time Arthur had seen her.

Oh, but Merlin _didn't know_ she had been a _witch_ now, did he, Arthur realized with a start. For all Merlin knew, Arthur had killed an ordinary woman. Hopefully Merlin still knew he had had a good reason to do it. Arthur was not in the dishonourable, outrageous habit of killing women – or men – without a reason, after all.

"She had a green cloak," Elyan said slowly, sounding hesitant. "And long dark hair. Black or brown, not sure which one. I think she might have been limping."

"How old you would say she was?"

"Um, in her fourties? Fifties? Hard to say. Could've been younger, too. Or older. It... happened very quickly. I really don't know."

By the time Merlin had seen the Lady of the Black Snakes, Arthur reasoned, she had been bald and dead. No wonder Merlin couldn't recognize her by Elyan's description. Besides, there were _countless_ of dark-haired women wearing green cloaks in Camelot. According to George, green was now the colour of the season (not that Arthur had _actually_ paid any attention to that particular comment, even if he happened to remember it). The witch Elyan was describing could be almost any woman.

"I will look into this," Merlin said, sounding determined as if there had never been a snake in him eating his blood. "You did well, Elyan. Don't worry about anything. You just rest."

Arthur recalled fevered Merlin – grasping his hand tightly – calling for Hunith – talking with Lancelot – telling Arthur to run for his life – gasping for air – his face smeared with tears – the black streak almost at his heart – the gargling of his lungs – Merlin _dying_...

Arthur forced the images in the back of his mind, as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"_You_ just rest, _Mer_lin."

It was a small delight to see Merlin twirling around, startled, but a _great_ one to see a big grin forming on his face.

"Arthur!" Merlin squealed, his eyes suddenly bright and shining, as he rushed to his side, while Gwen and Elyan were quickly scrambling to their feet. "I didn't realize you had woken up already. How are you feeling? Is your ankle still hurting? What about your wrist? Are you thirsty? Are you cold? Are you confused? Are you seeing things? Do you want something to eat? There's even _cake_, if you'd like that! Do you need another blanket? Or a pillow? Are you still tired? "

"I'm fine," Arthur choked out, swallowing hard, not quite able to look away from Merlin's happy face – it was overwhelming: one moment Merlin was gasping for air, dying, his lungs _gargling_, the next grinning like _that_, goofily, wonderfully, so full of love and _life_. Merlin was so...

"And the ankle is as good as new?"

"Yes, _Mer_lin, it is. Thanks to you, I suppose."

A sudden thought hit Arthur.

"As good as _new_? It _is_ the same ankle, isn't it? You didn't attach some dead man's ankle to me, did you?"

"What?" Merlin blinked, confused, but still grinning widely. "Of course not! My magic just pulled an echo of a black snake out of your ankle – it's the same ankle you were born with, I swear."

He then began rambling on about "stupid shoes" and banning "stupid shoes" and putting protecting charms on "_great_ leather boots" and Arthur being "his usual idiotic self" for wearing "stupid shoes" instead of "_great_ leather boots" and didn't Arthur think that leather boots were just _great_ and that Arthur really should just stick to wearing leather boots from now on instead of "stupid _shoes_". Arthur let him give vent to his feelings. It seemed like Merlin really needed it. Arthur needed it too: he had thought he would never hear Merlin's foolish rambles ever again and the prospect had been upsetting.

Elyan gave Arthur a light pat on the back, while Gwen sat next to him and twined her arms around his neck, her relieved, shaky breath tickling his ear. Arthur put a secure arm around her.

"How is Gwaine?" he finally had to interrupted Merlin's rant.

Merlin freezed to the spot and stopped talking midsentence. His grin vanished as soon as it had formed and he looked at the bed next to Arthur's with pain and fear in his eyes. Slowly, hesitantly he opened his mouth to answer.

"He will recover, my lord," said Gaius, still focused on stitching up Gwaine, before anyone else managed to form a proper answer. "The wounds are not too serious, even if they have bled a lot. He will be up and well in a couple of days or so, although I would suggest that he would refrain from straining himself for at least a week after that. He needs to eat nutritious food and rest as much as possible."

* * *

After Gaius had done what he could for Gwaine and they had left the man to sleep in peace, Arthur had put on his shirt and Elyan had helped him to the table. The resin-eyed girl – Sophia, her name apparently was – began to sweep the ash on the floor (Merlin offered to call his broom to sweep _everything_, but Gaius hurriedly assured him the sweeping would only build Sophia's character and no "Bertys" of any kind were needed – or allowed – into his work room again, and so the girl began to sweep), while the others gathered around the table.

There was a basket full of bread and a bowl half full of soup on the table and Merlin pushed them towards Arthur, urging him to eat up to "regain his strength". Arthur did just that, while three pairs of eyes watched him closely.

"So, Arthur," Merlin said after a while, as Arthur spooned up the soup with the spoon Merlin had picked up from the floor. "First things first, I guess: who was the bald beheaded lady laying on the floor just around... there?"

He pointed at the area with his finger.

"That would be the Lady of Black Snakes," Arthur answered after a while. "The ash piles used to be her pet snakes, before she died. And her hair. Both, actually."

* * *

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! As always, would be nice to hear your thoughts. :)**


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